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lyric poem

their beautiful hair
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
at midnight
i have cast the world
who will be naming the wind
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
in all things not spoken of
there were three in the meadow by the brook
over the river they beckon to me
better than granite
all my love for my sweet
sweet with fern and rose

 



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